


easter lilies, mourning doves

by floraltohru



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floraltohru/pseuds/floraltohru
Summary: Tohru runs into someone whose grief takes the same shape as hers.
Relationships: Honda Tohru & Sohma Hatori, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	easter lilies, mourning doves

Usually, it’s a date on the calendar that draws her in; the day she was born, the day she died, the day she celebrated motherhood, the day she cried every year because she should have been ringing in another anniversary. 

There’s no occasion today. Tohru just woke up as dawn crept in with her grief sitting like a lead weight on her chest, slowing her down like cinder blocks around her ankles. She spent a good five minutes washing the same dish from last night’s dinner while her mind wandered, untethered, before she realized what she was doing. 

She feels a sharp stab of guilt when she looks at the laundry basket and thinks  _ maybe I can get it done tomorrow _ , but a more aggressive voice in her head reminds her that she’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. 

Tohru folds up her skirt and blouse, setting them on her bed in a neat square. It takes her a moment to zip up her black dress, but she’s determined to do it without anyone’s help today. If all goes according to plan, they won’t even have to see her before she goes. 

For a moment, she thinks about putting on makeup, but then again - there’s not an occasion to speak of. And besides, her mother wouldn’t have seen the point in bothering with mascara if it was just going to end up running in thick, dark streams down her cheeks. 

In the end, she settles for a pretty glittery pink gloss that Kyoko would have liked. 

“Yuki-kun?” she half-whispers, tapping lightly on his door. A light groan from the other side tells her he’s awake, if only in the barest technical sense of the word. “I’m going out. I’ll be back before lunch.” 

She slips down the stairs before he even has a chance to pick his way across the room to his door, and by the time he’s opened it up, she’s already crossed the threshold into the yard. 

Shigure watches her go from over a cup of coffee, still awake from a late night working on his manuscript. The dark shape of Tohru’s dress disappears down the stairs, and he prepares himself for Kyo’s inevitable foul mood when he returns from his morning jog to find her gone. 

Halfway down the stairs, Tohru chastises herself for her flight of fancy; it’s not too late to stop, she reminds herself. She could turn around and go back inside and finish the laundry and not speak of this to anyone. 

Something is propelling her forward, though, and she’s not inclined to ignore the pull she’s feeling. Her mother’s voice chimes in her memory, as clear as day, reminding her to trust her instincts. It was advice she gave often, usually followed by a charming anecdote about her days as the legendary crimson butterfly. 

All at once, Tohru feels as though thinking about it might tear her in half, her heart aching like it’s on fire. It's a crumpling feeling, sending her stumbling. It’s definitely a good thing she opted out of a makeup routine this morning; she’s certain she looks like a mess enough as it is.

_ I could still go back, _ Tohru tells herself, but she drops onto a park bench to rest for a moment. Today she feels selfish to a fault, unwilling to share even her burdens. She wants to shoulder this one by herself, for now, if only to prove to herself that she can. 

She’s sure if she ever verbalized it, she’d be met with a set of annoyed knuckles against her hair, but her determined stubbornness is bubbling close to the surface today. 

Jolting up from the bench, she fears for a moment that she’s startled a couple out on their own early morning adventure. They move on and away from her, eyeing her more out of concern than anything else. 

A few blocks from the cemetery, Tohru realizes that she doesn’t have anything to leave. It’s not that she’s required, necessarily, but it feels unbearably rude, like showing up to a housewarming party without a host gift. 

It doesn’t have to be extravagant, she rationalizes, turning down a street lined with specialty shops and boutiques. If memory serves, there’s a bakery in the area; she and Hana and Uo stopped there once and tried their strawberry cakes. Light and fluffy and sweet, she remembers. 

They should come back again soon, Tohru tells herself.

The baker is kind to her, perhaps because her eyes are still red-rimmed or perhaps because she’s sniffling slightly. Tohru tries to refuse when he offers her a second cake for free, but he won’t take no for an answer. 

If she can manage to eat it, perhaps it’ll feel like a picnic. 

The thought of it nearly makes her cry again, and with her bag in hand she ducks her head down as she exits the bakery. If she can just keep it together until she’s off the street...

“Honda-kun?” A firm pair of hands settles on her shoulders and she jerks her head upward, nearly bashing her forehead into Hatori’s chin. 

“Ah! Hatori-san!” she cries. She swipes at her eyes with the end of her sleeve. “Forgive me, my allergies seem to be acting up a bit today.” 

“Allergies?” 

She nods. “Something about the pollen count, I think,” she says weakly, finally stopping when she’s afraid her voice is going to betray her. 

It wouldn’t take a genius to piece things together - her puffy eyes, her strained speech, her black dress - and Hatori has a medical degree. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, fishing around in his pocket for a handkerchief. Once he finds one, he presses it into her hand and she dabs at the corners of her eyes. 

When she speaks at last, it’s hardly even a whisper. “I’m visiting my mother.” 

“Oh.” It's not a surprise, exactly, as it was one of the first things Hatori learned about Tohru in Shigure’s hurried debrief after meeting with Akito. 

_ “Tell me about this girl,” Hatori had said.  _

_ Shigure had shrugged, rattling off information without even looking up from studying his cigarette. “She’s living in a tent. She knows about the curse. She just lost her mother.” _

And though he's got some experience with women crying in the middle of the street, no amount of practice will make it feel less awkward. 

“I should -” she starts to pull away, but Hatori keeps his hand firm - if gently - on her shoulder. 

“Would you like me to come with you?” he asks. 

“Oh! I couldn’t ask you to do that, I promise I’ll be alright, I wouldn’t want to be a burden, and I’m sure you’ve got plans for this afternoon.” 

“I don’t,” he says simply. “May I join you?” 

She bites her lip and he can almost hear the gears working behind her eyes. If she doesn’t stop overthinking, she’ll end up with a fever. 

Again. 

“Okay,” she says at last. “That sounds nice.” 

Tohru doesn’t speak much on the way to the site of the grave, doesn’t even indulge in the nervous babbling Hatori has come to expect from her. She keeps her eyes trained on her feet, and Hatori watches her carefully to make sure she doesn’t trip, steadying her by the elbow when she inevitably does. 

“Sorry, I’m really clumsy but I’m working on it.” 

“That’s alright.” 

As she crosses over into the cemetery, Tohru draws herself to her full height, chin held high. She's still not tall, Hatori notes, but she carries with her a sort of regal determination that adds a few inches. 

"At least the weather is pleasant," she says, her lips working into a half-smile. 

He murmurs his agreement, stopping short when she does in front of a headstone. 

It would be rude to linger, voyeuristic, so Hatori excuses himself. From the bench he finds, he can still see Tohru, but at least he's not invading her personal space and treading over her misery. 

The headstones here are all well-tended, many of them with modest floral displays. Hatori makes a mental note to drop by the florist's shop sometime soon. It stings when he has to try a little harder this time to remember which flowers to buy. 

Orchids. Lilies. Maybe some gladioli, thrown in for good measure. 

They won't be as nice as the ones from her garden, but he'll make do. 

Hatori is entrenched deeply enough in his own thoughts that he hardly notices when Tohru materializes in front of him, smiling even though she's still misty-eyed.

"Hatori-san?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be alright if I introduce you to my mother?" 

"Of course." He follows her back to the graveside, feeling this time like an invitee and not an intruder.

"Mom," she starts, her voice chipper. "This is Hatori-san. He's a member of the Sohma family and he's been very kind to me. And he's a doctor! Isn't that wonderful?" 

There's a sort of pride to her tone that's almost parental in nature, as a mother would praise high marks or a father would commend a particularly well-played game.

"Hatori-san, this is my mother, Honda Kyoko."

It feels strange to address the grave, so he dips his head politely. 

"I'm sure she'd be so excited to meet you," Tohru tells him, and her tone has almost leveled out to its characteristic baseline cheer. “I’m glad I ran into you today."

“So am I,” he says. “I never liked coming to places like this on my own.” 

“Did you lose someone too?” she asks, barely audible over the light breeze ruffling her hair. 

Hatori lets out a low hum, piecing his words together carefully before speaking. He doesn’t have a chance to respond before she gasps aloud.    


“I’m so sorry,” she says. “That was so rude of me, I really didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me, I understand if it’s not something you want to talk about.” 

The look in her eyes is earnest and endearing; it’s no wonder Shigure has a soft spot for her. 

“It’s alright,” he says, and he tries not to smile in keeping with her own solemn look. “My mother was ill when I was very young and my father passed when I was in high school.” 

She presses her fingers lightly to her lips, eyes wide as though she had never heard something so sad, as though she hadn’t lived it, as though she wasn’t, at this moment, standing at her own mother’s grave. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says. “I had no idea.” 

It’s strange, but he hasn’t heard that in a long time. It seemed there was an expiration date on  _ I'm sorry for your loss,  _ a point at which most people stopped being sorry and started expecting Hatori to have moved on. Much of his grief has scabbed over and scarred. Sometimes he forgets it's there at all until it snags on something, like the realization that his father would never get to meet Mayu or that any children he had would grow up without paternal grandparents. 

Perhaps it’s that same feeling that led Tohru here today, grief at once insurmountable and mundane. 

“Thank you,” he says at last. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She rummages around in the bakery bag, procuring the cake and setting it lightly on Kyoko’s headstone. She splits the second cake evenly, offering half of it to Hatori. “Thank you for joining me,” she says. 

"Of course."

He's never seen her so subdued, pensive as the bites into the cake. She dusts the crumbs from her hands and smiles, serene, when she says, "I should probably head back. I need to make lunch for Yuki-kun and Kyo-kun."

It feels strange to part ways, so Hatori conjures up an excuse to stop by and asks if she wouldn't mind the company on the way back. 

She's amenable to the idea, of course. Always amenable. Past the gates of the cemetery, she pivots the topic of conversation; she asks if he's busy, reminds him not to overwork himself, offers to cook for him if he's overwhelmed.

He can see why half of his cousins are in love with her, in some way or another. 

When they arrive at Shigure's doorstep, the words  _ if you ever want to talk about it _ die on his tongue, so Hatori pats Tohru on the head and reminds himself that he'll just need to pay closer attention. 

She bows and thanks him for the escort, then darts inside and up the stairs. While Hatori raps lightly on Shigure's door, he can hear Tohru's anxious chatter as Kyo interrogates her. 

"I wasn't by myself, actually. Hatori-san went with me."

Kyo grumbles something noncommittal, but Hatori can hear from where he stands that she's softened his sharp edges. 

When Shigure opens the door to his room, half-asleep, Hatori drags him out to the engawa for a smoke. 

He leaves when Tohru starts bustling around the kitchen and the boys begin shooting passive-aggressive insults at each other across the table. 

But maybe next time he'll stay for lunch. 

**Author's Note:**

> gigantic thank-you to @lilbeehive on tumblr who made sure i didn't fall into any plot holes and ran w me from "hey you know what's sad" and then for another 2k words
> 
> i'm @floraltohru on tumblr and twitter ✌️


End file.
